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Patchwork

HampsterRegular
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About Patchwork

  • Rank
    The last real connection to light and life...
  • Birthday 12/15/1988

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  • Website URL
    http://www.happygopurple.com
  • ICQ
    0

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    on a computer chair in Florida
  • Interests
    being a nonconformist
  1. Jack sat on his aging, brown, pleather couch, staring at the blackened screen across the room. With the television off, the small house was disturbingly silent. He didnt like the lack of noise, so Jack started drumming his fingers on the dented and faded armrest. It wasnt enough. The normally relaxed high school teacher stood in the center of the dimly lit room and looked around, hoping for something to distract him from the overwhelming panic he knew was coming. Jack saw a chipped toy from his childhood and approached it. The little train fit in his palm, but he remembered when it seemed much bigger. Jacks mind flew back to when he was just five years old. His little brother Dantong had just been born, but at what cost? Even as a toddler, Jack understood that Danny needed extra attention due to his birth defects, but the little boy missed spending time with his father. One day, a few months after the baby was born, Jack and his father were sitting at the park feeding pigeons when the kind-hearted man pulled out what looked to Jack like the biggest toy train hed ever seen, and the child squealed in delight. His father gently explained to him the toy used to belong to Jacks grandfather before his family moved to England from China. Jack listened carefully, clutching his new toy, as the man went on to warn him never to mistreat the piece of family history lest it be removed from the little boys possession. Jack looked down at the now tiny train in his hand, smiling softly at one of his fondest memories of his late father. He traced with his little finger the lightly tarnished silver detail running the length of the red locomotive before returning it to its stand on the mahogany bookshelf. He sighed sadly and trudged to the kitchen, giving wide berth to the big black cabinet sealed with a large padlock. Today will not end in surrender, he thought vehemently. Opening his black refrigerator, Jack peered into the cooling box to see if there was anything small to eat as a distraction from his growing unrest. Jack felt as though the room was closing in around him. He closed the refrigerator door, breathing more sharply than before. The man sat on the floor, legs splayed out before him, leaning on the black plastic door. He shook his head violently in an effort to snap himself out of the buzzing panic. Jack tried to get up, to leave and run to his safe place, to hide in his closet as he did as a child, but found himself paralyzed in fear. The logical side on his brain kicked in. What am I afraid of, he reasoned. This is my house. I should know what everything is. I am in control of my situation. Control. Jacks mind began looping over itself. Control. Verb. To have command over a person or situation. To have say, to be the boss, to have superiority. To supersede previous rules and constraints. Etymology Latin and Anglo-French in origin. Synonyms include regulate, verify, balance. Jack grabbed his head and squeezed, biting his lips to hold in his scream of frustration. He slammed his fists onto the floor and immediately cradled his now injured hands. The bones seemed alright after he massaged and palpated the sore areas. Sighing in reliefs, he sat back, resting his head against the refrigerator with eyes closed. I cant, he argued with himself, feeling the presence on the locked cabinet loom over him from across the room. I cant let it control me, he pleaded with himself. I wont give in again. It only leads to more pain. Jacks nerve was fraying. He knew he had to leave soon if he was to successfully avoid the temptation of his padlocked secret. Worn out, the man stood, pulling the counter to ease his assent. He found himself over the small drawer where he kept the spare keys hed mysteriously accrued over his lifetime. Unlike most, however, he knew exactly which doors his keys opened. Jack even knew the faces that went with his keys, and the amount of valuables missing from those many people. He picked up a small brass key and counted its ridges and valleys. Then he picked up a large handful and began to sort them by size and color, lining up the tips. Slowly but surely, Jacks collection grew to the size of the counter and spilled over onto the island. He continued filling his hand with keys to sort until there was only one left. It was large and dark. He stared at the key, filled with apprehension. Jack knew exactly where this key led, and he didnt want to go there ever again. To his horror, Jack watched his hand reach in and pick the old key up almost of its own accord. He felt his feet move, dragging him unwilling around the counter to the black cabinet. He closed his eyes, hoping to stumble and fall, but he knew his house intimately and frequently moved around in the dark. Blindly, his hands touched the painted surface. Jack kneeled, eyes squeezed tightly shut, tears falling onto his cheeks from the fear and stress as the key found its home and clicked. Jack opened his eyes when the key did not turn. He peered at it. His hands were just touching the lock and key, but they were still. A glimmer of hope flashed through his thoughts. I can pull it out, he mused. I can put it away and leave, his mind told him. Alas, he did not remove the key, but just looked at it silently. I can control myself. The thought echoed in Jacks head. He squinted slightly in concentration and opened the padlock. He stopped. The lock didnt soar across the room, and the doors didnt fly open, sending the heavy chain straight to his face. If anything, the cabinet was less frightening without the lock engaged. Jack sighed and left the room, pleased with his self-control. A moment later, he bolted back into the room, sliding on his knees across the floor toward the now unlocked box. Jack ripped the chain down around the cabinets feet and flung the doors open. There, exactly where hed stashed it five years ago, sat a single crystal shot glass. Filled with trepidation, he slowly reached a trembling hand out toward the small, almost harmless object of his nightmares. Jack gulped and turned his head, flinching as his fingers touched the cold glass. He picked it up gingerly, staring wide-eyed at its cut design along the bottom. He froze, realizing where his thoughts were leading, and extended his arm to put the glass back in its dungeon to sit, but he held onto it for a moment longer. If I am in control, Jack pondered, this glass is not to be feared. I have glasses in my kitchen that I dont touch, but there are mingled with those I do use. Jack brought it back to his face, touching its rim and tracing the round mouth. He sniffed it. Of course, he smelled nothing. Rising to his feet, the man walked to his cupboard and placed the small glass on the top shelf with the other unused drinking glasses. Again, Jack left the room, smiling to himself for not caving with such strong temptation and such high stress. He pulled a book from his bedside bookcase without looking at the title and began reading a dissertation on why some professor thought the premise of Christianity was a huge hoax contrived to brainwash society into paying child molesters money to teach people morals and ethics. Normally, Jack would have been fascinated and focused on the book, but he couldnt seem to wrap his head around even the simplest of words. The book flew across the room, pages flapping wildly, and Jack launched it toward the bookcase in frustration. He stomped out to the kitchen, slammed his cupboard open, and grabbed the innocuous glass. He fumed over to the opposite door, leaving the cups exposed, and snatched a bottle of Everclear from the bottom shelf and poured himself a glass of 90% pure alcohol. Nothing will get you drunker faster, the old merchant had said. You cant take more than a shot or two without blowing your liver to pot, he had warned, but itll smash you faster than you can pour it. Jack had originally taken the caution as a challenge but quickly learned how true it was. Now he glared at the innocent-looking drink on his island. Raising the drink to his lips with tears in his eyes, he choked out a sob and swallowed the caustic liquid hard to lessen the ensuing burn in his throat. Racing the clock, he poured another before he felt the first hint of a buss hit. Jack waited for a few minutes, letting his body start to process the alcohol before touching the shot glass. Finally he felt his stress melt and took another shot. Them he took a few more, making sure he didnt spill the expensive drink of choice. Jack stood up, knocking over the basic wooden chair hed been sitting in. He jumped at the sharp clatter as it hit the linoleum, then he laughed at his reaction. The drunk man stumbled to his stereo and turned up his heavy metal to the max. He shuffled back to the kitchen and sat in the other chair, pulling the heavy bottle and shot glass over to him. Picking up the glass, he peered at it with glazed eyes, silently blaming it for all of his pain. Jack growled and hurled the crystal against the white wall opposite him. It shattered, spraying him with shards of booze-drenched glass. He fell out of the chair in surprise. Chuckling, he reached up and pulled the again bottle down and scooted to the wall, taking a swig straight from his personal tap. His throat was on fire, but Jack had stopped caring. Sufficiently addled, the longstanding walls began to crumble, and Jack collapsed into a sobbing mess, narrowly missing his bottle. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he gasped for breath between wails. Painful thoughts of a more recent past flashed in his mind. Memories of shouting matches with his younger brother, the death of their other brother, his father collapsing feet away from him, and the blood-curdling scream of his youngest sister all washed over him like an acid bath. Out of breath and out of control, Jack dragged himself to the counter, pulled sown a steak knife after a few moments of fumbling, and stared at it through red, soaked eyes. He yanked his wallet from his back pocket and pulled a faded suicide note from behind his license in a last ditch effort to convince himself to live. Upon reading his words from two decades prior, Jack just screamed, words disappearing into the loud music filling the house. Im sorry! he bellowed. Im sorry I let you all down, and Im sorry I cant take it anymore! His litany of remorse dragged him even further down into his drunken depression. Apologies and pleas for forgiveness streamed from his lips as he poured his heart out to the paper in his right hand. Clutching the sharp, serrated knife in his left, Jack finally broke down his last line of defense and removed his watch. [Redacted. He tried to kill himself. No need for detail here.] Sarah was dancing in a field, the skirt of her white dress twirling around her. She spun, laughing, in a large circle with her arms outstretched. Jack walked through the grass to meet his little sister. The eleven-year-old caught sight of her brother and ran to him. He fell to his knees and embraced her tightly, not wanting to let go. Jack felt the soft touch of her lips as Sarah kissed his cheek and backed away smiling, waving goodbye. He tried to follow, to pull himself toward her, but his paradise faded into the sounds of an ambulance, the sensation of pain. Jack watched the four paramedics count and compress his chest, trying to restart his heart. He saw bags of blood hooked up to his body, and more, very empty bags in an orange bag. One paramedic warned the others to clear the body as he shocked the life back into it. A tense moment of silence followed, broken by the steady scream of the heart monitor. Another shock, and another followed. They adjusted the power and tried two more times. The fifth shock stuck, but he was still losing so much blood the paramedics were sure they would lose him. Then the back doors opened and more medical professionals pulled Jacks body out, and his consciousness faded. Pain greeted the teacher as his world returned to him. A doctor was reading his chart. Jacks chest ached, and his wrist was bandaged tightly. The doctor noticed him stirring and smiled.
  2. ah, but cheesy, how can you be sure these are my thoughts? I could just be stringing broken lines together. you never know. That's why I put disclaimers up. however since you brought up the religion thing and it's my topic and nobody ought to care since I'm not continuing the discussion after this... your topic on gay marriage did turn very slightly into a religious debate, if you didn't notice. Taynio brought it up, and the essay did have much religion in it. That's asking for a debate, in my eyes. and what good is freedom to debate if there are limits on debating? I can understand there's a time and place, but why do people shy away from it? seriously, I dont' see what is so intimidating about religious debate, yet nobody is willing to participate. It's just banter. I do so in good sport, or try to, yet everyone always takes it personally, as though I'm attacking hem personally. I'm not. I happen to have strong beliefs, and they often conflict with society's beliefs. [off topic: the guys here are talking about basketball players and their faults...what on earth are they saying? *sigh* this is what I get for hijacking chairs in the sports section!!] and the conflict isn't any fun if I can't utilize my logical skillz in a decent debate. *sigh* curious, determined, logical, and loves to debate are not always the best combination of traits. ok, I'm done. ok, that rambling was true, but it isn't all on HD that keeps me from expressing myself. I was verbally attacked and blocked for engaging someone in a debate....they took it to be biblebashing. I don't know the right level to debate on anymore. I want to, but if I try too hard, I'll drive friends away, and I'm tired of losing friends to a stupid debate. I can't stand not knowing how much of my thoughts is too much, so I'd rather just shut it and enjoy the show. now I'm done. When I was a really young hammy, my parents always told me never to speak about politics, sex and religion. Very good advice. The reason people back away from religious debate is because it is a very emotional topic. For many, faith cannot be debated because there are no facts, just belief. This leaves many people on grounds that simulate quicksand. In addition, you are discussing, for some, an extremely personal topic. They do not want their faith questioned. Debating a topic that they feel uncomfortable discussing, leaves them feeling attacked. Now rationale departs and emotional verbage begins... all resulting in feelings being hurt. The same goes for sexual and political views. if only my mother could see her attacks in what she claims is "I'm not attacking you". I see what you mean. What I suggest is to make an offer of a religious debate and if you have no takers, then let the debate idea go. You can always come here and go a couple rounds with TGHL. LOL. He really loves a good debate. And if you cannot raise his attention, you can always debate on the usefulness of the monarchy. LOLI've tried different debate topics before, H, and he's really good at ignoring me. Monarchy is great, 'long as I get to be king. ;D But I understand what you mean, Paz. Horatio has a point about how emotions take place in some religious debates, but not logic. Or whatever. I don't feel attacked, though, during debates. I guess. It's just that recently I've met a lot of attack and rejection and I fear it happening again. besides, I value the friendships I have here. I'm not good at making friends, and it's hard to maintain the friendships I do have. I would rather be in an okay place here than blow my mouth off and make everyone miserable. I don't want to ruin what I have at HD. I've done that before on an IM, and I got called a sheep, blocked, and well, that's a whole ramble's worth. but anyway. friendship is more important than expressing myself. I can do that in this topic. I'm done.
  3. I get the meaning of the poem. And I think that this is how you actually feel. Which really stinks, because I like debating as much as you do. xD We shouldn't discourage it. Except for religious debates, cause those never go anywhere. and I ge the hint, 'Raishey. ah, but cheesy, how can you be sure these are my thoughts? I could just be stringing broken lines together. you never know. That's why I put disclaimers up. however since you brought up the religion thing and it's my topic and nobody ought to care since I'm not continuing the discussion after this... your topic on gay marriage did turn very slightly into a religious debate, if you didn't notice. Taynio brought it up, and the essay did have much religion in it. That's asking for a debate, in my eyes. and what good is freedom to debate if there are limits on debating? I can understand there's a time and place, but why do people shy away from it? seriously, I dont' see what is so intimidating about religious debate, yet nobody is willing to participate. It's just banter. I do so in good sport, or try to, yet everyone always takes it personally, as though I'm attacking hem personally. I'm not. I happen to have strong beliefs, and they often conflict with society's beliefs. [off topic: the guys here are talking about basketball players and their faults...what on earth are they saying? *sigh* this is what I get for hijacking chairs in the sports section!!] and the conflict isn't any fun if I can't utilize my logical skillz in a decent debate. *sigh* curious, determined, logical, and loves to debate are not always the best combination of traits. ok, I'm done. ok, that rambling was true, but it isn't all on HD that keeps me from expressing myself. I was verbally attacked and blocked for engaging someone in a debate....they took it to be biblebashing. I don't know the right level to debate on anymore. I want to, but if I try too hard, I'll drive friends away, and I'm tired of losing friends to a stupid debate. I can't stand not knowing how much of my thoughts is too much, so I'd rather just shut it and enjoy the show. now I'm done.
  4. [disclaimer] coward she lost her drive for debate she lost her love for argument she's afraid to screw up again stupid girl so young, took on a challenge and was ridiculed too ambitious maybe? or is it too immature? knowledge no match or those who've had classes introspect no help throw herself on the masses encourages others to take heart, fight on yet lacking the gusto to take her own word to action silly girl so young to think she could actually do anything getting herself in a hole painted in a corner foolish girl and now she is a coward not trusting her own words not to end it just expressing her opinion with the reputation she's developed when it comes to controversial topics she knows it could hurt her so she backs up refusing herself the enjoyment of a debate knowing answers, but not saying anything for fear of what? insecure brat afraid of rejection from the same ones who bring smiles why so fearful? she's been backstabbed before doesn't want that anymore those she trusts most are the same the same ones who she fears stupid child juvenile in strength foolhardy confidence gone from her veins at what cost? [/disclaimer] hehe up to you again sorry cheesieman o.o hasn't Asagio been your cheese for a while?
  5. *loves more great poetry* muh siggeh is also entered, you just can't tell
  6. *gets tired of everybody thinking they are losers* NO, NO, NO, NO, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YOU ARE NOT A LOSER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *agrees*
  7. watching as laughter fades the starts gleam grinning down teasing a childish mind come play with us, they resound come fly where pain is gone come jump and laugh and play come, make a wondrous mess you can go home any day we promise you'll have fun we promise you'll want more we promise what only we can keep too bad our promises are forevermore yay peer pressure vacuum!
  8. In the mud were three little moldy bread loaves, all of which loved to play shun the non-believer, in which we ate pickles and shun the nun on the run with a gun who was stunned when a ton of some fun, some dumb fun, with nun's stun-guns and bad puns, eating hot-cross buns with your mum who weighs two-tons of no fun ate a carrot. Chewing gum monsters were coming through your mind. Suddenly, a piggy came and ate your I less-than-three pigs Siggy. We all lived in a hard boiled egg where the yolk was always on the run from the nun eating a bun that was un-fun and over done, in the sun and was shunned by the bum
  9. I can't believe she had the nerve to say that! Now I fear for my brother's and my safety! grr
  10. 1) why? 2) who? 3) where? 4) what? 5) when? 6) how? 7) huh? 8) What do you mean I can't have toast in the evening?! 9) was it pointless? 10) what is the ultimate question of the universe?
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